


One Secret

by Probably_an_idiot



Series: Be More Chill Shit For Your Reading Pleasure ;) [7]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Deadpool AU, Jere is spiderman, M/M, Mutual Pining, Spiderman AU, i have the whole story plotted out but not written, it will all happen I promise, mike is deadpool, mostly outside of canon completely, no squip au, so bear with my possibly slowish updates, they dont know the others secret identities
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-06-09 19:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15274287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Probably_an_idiot/pseuds/Probably_an_idiot
Summary: “S-so what’s your name, man?” Spiderman asked.“You don’t know who I am?”Spiderman shook his head.“I’m Deadpool! Y’know, merc with a mouth? Regenerating degenerate?”“Nope, sorry man.”“Damn it!” Michael cursed. “How come everyone knows who you are?”“I dunno. . .” Spiderman sighed. “I save a lot of people.”





	1. Aghast

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my wonderful friend Mae (@sexcteapot on insta) for editing and helping with this story and for also being my cheerleader, motivation, and idea woman. You kept this from dying, pal!!
> 
> Anywho, here is the much anticipated (by us only lmao) spideypool boyf riends au!! I’m so excited to add to this! I think we’re off to a promising start.
> 
> Hope y’all enjoy!

Michael had hurried on to the scene after hearing shouts. He hadn’t been busy, so it’s not like this was so terrible, but it’s not like he wanted to save some people from an out of control bus. 

He was failing. Miserably. He was built for fighting, not for stopping a 30 thousand pound city bus. He was hard at work trying to get the bus under control. The driver, a rather fat man, had either passed out or died at the wheel and honestly Michael didn’t want to know. Unfortunately, he couldn't even get the driver out of the seat, let alone take control of and drive a bus to safety.

He was trained in driving a stick shift, not a goddamn bus.

So Michael was trying to get the people out. He was shouting over all their screams. Most didn’t listen, but those who did helped calm the others. He opened the emergency exit door, and peered out.

At this point, Michael realised just how fast the bus was moving. Not like highway fast, but fast enough that people couldn’t just jump off. He swore to himself and climbed back into the bus. He moved to the front, trying to reach past the unconscious driver to press the brake pedal and slow the bus down. He couldn’t get to it.

Michael started to panic.

“Okay, okay,” he yelled over his racing thoughts. “We’re gonna have to jump out.”

“No! Please, I-I can’t do that!” Replied a girl nervously. She couldn’t have been older than Michael.

Michael gritted his teeth. He hated difficult people, but he understood where the fear came from.  _ Not everyone has the same lack of self-preservation as you.  _ He reminded himself.

He closed his eyes and took a breath. “Well, if you can’t jump off the bus, you will probably die, seeing as we’re heading straight for the bay.”

“Can’t you move the bus driver?” Asked an elderly man.

“Have you seen that guy?” Michael scoffed. “Solid 300, maybe more.”

The man set his mouth and crossed his arms. “There’s got to be another way.”

“You guys are literally about to die,” Michael said, his calm demeanor faltering. “I am trying to save you. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

Before anyone else could say anything, the bus lurched to a very sudden stop, Michael almost fell out of the popped emergency exit. He recovered quickly, climbing back out of the top to check what had stopped the bus so quickly.

There was a sticky white net covering the front of the bus. Michael furrowed his brow, following the net to— _ woah. _

It was Spiderman, in all his red and blue glory. Spiderman was standing on the roof of a nearby building, holding the web attached to the bus in both hands. Michael wouldn’t admit it but he nearly fainted. He loved Spiderman, and here he was, helping him.

“Thanks, buddy!” Michael called. Spiderman’s focus turned to Michael.

“Yeah, no problem!”

Michael climbed back into the bus and ushered everyone out. Their grumbling was awfully annoying for people whose lives were just saved.

Once everyone was out, Michael asked Spiderman to help get the driver out of the seat. 

“Too heavy for you alone, huh?” Spiderman teased.

Michael glared at him. “Are we looking at the same guy? This guy needs to be banned from his local Krispy Kreme.”

Spiderman snickered, then picked the man up  _ by himself. _

Michael’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious? No fucking way dude, how much can you lift?”

“Not sure,” Spiderman said, kicking open the bus door. “Haven’t really found my limit yet.”

Michael was speechless. How could Spiderman not have found his limit yet? How much could Spiderman actually lift? Spiderman didn’t look like he was even a little bit winded after carrying the driver out.

One of the passengers called an ambulance for the driver, so Michael and Spiderman waited on the scene for them.

“S-so what’s your name, man?” Spiderman asked.

“You don’t know who I am?”

Spiderman shook his head.

“I’m Deadpool! Y’know, merc with a mouth? Regenerating degenerate?”

“Nope, sorry man.”

“Damn it!” Michael cursed. “How come everyone knows who you are?”

“I dunno. . .” Spiderman sighed. “I save a lot of people.”

“I s—“ Michael stopped himself there. Of course he saves people, but more often, he’s killing people. You can make some nice dough being a mercenary.

Michael clamped his mouth shut, embarrassed. The ambulance finally showed up, and he hurried away. Not only was the silence between Spiderman and him deafening, but his suit was starting to give him a wedgie and Michael did  _ not  _ feel like dealing with that in front of Spiderman.

When Michael got home, he resisted the urge to drop onto his bed and sleep. He still had homework to do. Instead, he pulled off his suit and changed into his pajamas. It was only 4:20  _ (haha blaze it)  _ but Michael didn’t have the energy to do anything else except for his pre calc homework. Just as he was about to get into the pain of matrices, his phone buzzed.

It was Jeremy.

**From: Jere**

_ (4:21)  _ did u hear about the bus thing?

_ (4:21)  _ a bunch of people almost died

_ (4:22)  _ but Spiderman came in and saved them. 

**To: Jere**

_ (4:22)  _ what about Deadpool? Wasnt he there too?

**From: Jere**

_ (4:23) _ yeah, but it’s not like he did anything

**To: Jere**

_ (4:23)  _ I mean I’m sure he tried his best. 

Michael had to type that last sentence a couple of times. He didn’t really want Jeremy to know he was Deadpool. Something about the thought of  _ that  _ conversation made Michael uneasy.

Realizing that Jeremy was successfully getting him off track, Michael turned back to his pre calc homework and got to work. It took him a few hours, and he could definitely admit to have gotten off track. He really hated pre calc.

Jeremy did that a lot. Got him off topic. He could do something as small as text him about current events, and Michael wouldn’t be able to ignore it. Jeremy, for all his trying to look cool, was a very affectionate person. They’d take turns reading sections of books out loud (neither of them were readers, but sometimes they needed to for English), and when it was Michael’s turn, Jeremy would press himself into his side. He’d watch attentatively as Michael turned each page, and needless to say, it wasn’t easy to read like that.

With much effort, Michael pushed Jeremy from his mind and crawled into bed.

The next day, Jeremy came to Michael’s house after school. They’d been working on level ten of their favorite video game, Apocalypse of the damned.

They’d played through the whole game before, but everyone knows how hard it is to let go of something you like.

“So how was your week?” Michael asked.

“It was alright.” Jeremy shrugged, barely paying attention.

“Just alright?”

“Yeah.”

The conversation was so dry. Michael wracked his brain for  _ something  _ he could say to be more engaging. There must be  _ something  _ jeremy wants to talk about.

“So, uh. . .” Michael swallowed. “What are your thoughts on Spiderman?”

Jeremy seemed to tense at that, but he relaxed quickly. Probably hoping Michael wouldn’t notice.

“I mean, I’ve been pretty open about my love for the red spandex, but I don’t even know if we’re on the same page about him.”

“I-I like him. He’s. . . y’know, cool, I guess.”

“You guess? Dude, he’s a guy who shoots spider webs out of his fucking arms! Tell me that isn’t badass!”

“I don’t know. . . I like him, just. . . not as much as you do, I guess.”

Michael watched Jeremy touch his thumb to his fingers one after the other, a clear sign that Jeremy was uncomfortable. He had no idea why talking about Spiderman made Jeremy uncomfortable, but dropped the subject.

“I’m sorry that I’m not. . .”

“Yourself?”

“Y-yeah.”

Michael shook his head. “It’s cool, dude.”

Michael burned to ask him why. Wanted to figure out what was eating at him, and maybe even fix it. But Jeremy very clearly didn’t want to talk about it. Whatever. He’ll tell Michael eventually. He always does.

Michael turned back to the game, but found his motivation to beat the level was pretty much gone. Jeremy’s bored stare said he was feeling the same way.

“Wanna play Mario Kart?”

A smile split Jeremy’s face, and Michael moved to put the disk in his wii. Michael had a switch, and Mario Kart 8, but they both agree that Mario Kart wii is a god tier game.

Michael let jeremy pick the first race, though in retrospect that was a bad decision because he knew exactly what Jeremy would pick. Rainbow Road. Jeremy loved Rainbow Road, and claimed it was the only one he could beat Michael on. The only reason he won was because Michael’s go-to vehicle was terrible with twists and turns, but Jeremy would deny that.

Predictably, Jeremy got first, and Michael landed a really close second. He probably would've won if not for Jeremy’s devious red shell.

“You’re such an ass! I was  _ just _ about to win!”

Jeremy just stuck his tongue out, the little kid equivalent of the middle finger.

Of course, Michael was  _ very  _ offended.

They played a few more rounds of Mario Kart until they got bored of that too. Michael turned off the TV, leaving them in complete darkness. It didn’t last long though, because they almost immediately pulled out their phones.

Michael was browsing whatever social media website, looking for good memes to show to Jeremy. He came across a video with the president’s face plastered across the thumbnail.

“So, Mr. President,” Asked someone beyond the camera. It was an interview. “The world is kind of in shock today when you announced the newfound alliance with Afghanistan. The war has been going on since 2001, and now it’s suddenly over. Do you have any comments on that?”

Jeremy’s attention was caught. He moved over and began to watch over Michael’s shoulder.

“Well, I thought it was about high time we ended that silly feud.”

The interviewer scoffed. “‘Silly feud?’ Mr. President, are you aware of how long this war has been going on? How many people have died? And you still call it a ‘silly feud?’”

“Well, that’s what it is. There was no good reason to start fighting in the first place.”

The interviewer is at a loss for words, and honestly, so are Michael and Jeremy.  _ How could the president be so. . . ignorant? Surely the person in charge of the U.S. should know of the country’s affairs? _

“Um, okay. Well, Mr. President, do you have any closing statements?”

“The President of Afghanistan and I are working together now, hoping to bring peace to every country on this Earth. Anyone who stands in our way will not stand long.”

The video turned dark, and Michael stared at the screen in shock.

“Well that was horrifying,” Jeremy murmured.

“I’m aghast.”

“Wow that’s a two dollar word”

“Shut up. It was on the word-a-day calendar my mom got me for Christmas.”

Jeremy snickered at that, but it dissolved quickly.

They sat in silence for a bit, still looking at their phones. Michael was the first to put down his phone and sit up.

“Hungry?” He asked.

Jeremy glanced up from his phone. It looked like he was playing Subway Surfers or something. In his moment of looking away, he crashed into a train and lost the game.

“Yeah I guess.”

Michael’s mom had ordered pizza earlier that night, which they had devoured most of. There was a slice and a half of pepperoni and olive pizza, which they put in the microwave.

Michael leaned against the countertop, watching Jeremy. He looked tired. His hair was ruffled and his clothes were wrinkled and he looked  _ so cute. _

The pizza came out of the microwave, and they wolfed it down quicker than most would consider safe.

They retreated back into the basement, their hunger satisfied. Michael laid back on his bed, starting to feel sleep creeping in.

“Michael?” Jeremy asked.

“Yeah buddy?” His voice came out quieter than he had intended.

Jeremy paused. Michael looked up at him and saw that he was chewing his lip nervously.

“You good?”

“Uh! Yeah, um, never mind.”

Jeremy tugged at the hair at the back of his head, and moved over towards the bed. He crawled in next to Michael and laid down silently.

“You sure you’re good?” Michael said, his voice no higher than a whisper.

Jeremy nodded. “Just tired. Goodnight, Michael.”

“Goodnight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here’s the first chapter! I hope you liked it, and there are more to come!
> 
> I’ve plotted out the whole story, the chapters just aren’t written, so I can promise you I will see this to the end, but bear with me If updates are just a bit slow!!
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr (@probably-an-idiot) or insta (@probably_an_idiot) and feel free to leave kudos and those sweet, sweet comments. I love to hear from you guys!!


	2. Perturbed

Saturday morning, Jeremy woke up a little closer to Michael than he remembered. His face was buried in the back of Michael’s hoodie, and it wasn’t unpleasant at all, but this would probably be weird when Michael woke up. 

Jeremy pulled his body away from Michael’s and looked up at the sunlight streaming from the basement window.

Jeremy groaned. He had gotten an anonymous message about a robbery going on today, which meant a bunch of work for him.

Life’s tough when you’re Spiderman.

Jeremy checked his phone. It was 7:58. The tip said that the robbery was supposed to happen at 8:30, and Jeremy wanted to be ready. He kept his costume in his backpack at all times, in a secret pocket he had sewn (badly) himself.

Jeremy’s terrible craftsmanship showed whenever he pulled out his suit and stitches would rip. He supposed he could ask one of his other, more skilled friends, but then there’d be questions and Jeremy wasn’t ready to reveal his secret identity. Not yet.

Checking to make sure Michael was still asleep, Jeremy took his backpack into the bathroom and got himself changed. He quickly shot a text to Michael letting him know that he had to leave, and then climbed out the window, pulling his mask over his face.

The air was fresh. It was a cool November morning and Jeremy breathed in the scent of the coming storm. He paused only for a moment to take in the scene, before shooting off towards the city. Jeremy hated living in the suburbs because he couldn’t just sling a web and fly through them. He was stuck running. Like a normal person.

Jeremy sat himself on the roof of the bank, gazing over the street. It was 8:30, so something was supposed to happen. Mid-yawn, he saw a familiar red suit streaking towards the bank.

Deadpool stopped on the stairs and looked around.

_ He’s not robbing the bank, is he?  _ Jeremy wondered.  _ No, he wouldn’t. _

Deadpool looked up, spotted Jeremy and waved cheerily.

“Hey Spidey!” He called, “C’mere!”

“No I-I’m busy!”

“With what?”

“I’m working!”

“Work’s for losers. There’s nothing going on right now.”

“But there’s supposed to be.”

“What do you—oh! You’re talking about the tip! Yeah that was me.”

“You’re. . .robbing the bank?”

Deadpool pressed his palm onto his face. “No, the tip was fake.”

Jeremy weighed his options. Maybe Deadpool was just trying to trick him. But he seemed harmless enough. He couldn’t even stop that bus without Jeremy’s help.

He nimbly jumped off the roof of the bank, and landed next to Deadpool. His mask looked like it had been put on in a hurry.

Jeremy sat on the steps to the bank and motioned for Deadpool to do the same.

“So, why the fake tip?”

“How else am I gonna contact my friendly neighborhood Spiderman?”

Jeremy cringed at that. He had said that a lot when he first became Spiderman when he was fifteen. Since then, he’d stopped saying it, but people definitely remembered it.

“I’m always hanging around.”

“Ha! That was a spider joke! You’re funny!”

Jeremy thought that maybe he was being sarcastic, but he couldn’t be sure. He decided not to respond, for fear of misinterpretation.

“But seriously um. . . I-I don’t think I’m that hard to find. I wear like, bright red and fling myself around the city or. . . Y’know.”

“Well getting you in one place is easier than trying to flag you down.”

“Yeah, I guess. What did you want me for anyway?”

Jeremy couldn’t see under Deadpool’s mask, but he might’ve been blushing. He played with his fingers and looked nervous. “I just wanted to hang out. You’re like, my icon.”

“Oh well, uh, glad to meet a fan?”

“Well, that aside, let me properly introduce myself: I’m Deadpool, the mercenary of your dreams.”

Deadpool shook Jeremy’s hand while inspecting the nails on his other hand. Even though his hands were gloved.

“Um, well I’m—“

“Spiderman, I know. Charmed, I’m sure.”

They stood there for a moment, not really making anymore conversation.

“Okay, well I’d better go—“

Jeremy was cut off by the alarm system in the bank going off.

“Is there actually a robbery going on?” Jeremy asked anxiously.

“Only one way to find out,” Deadpool said, sounding pretty smiley for being fifty feet away from a likely crime scene.

He darted into the bank, Jeremy following close behind. There was commotion coming from behind one of the tellers desks. The robber had hopped over the desk and was filling his pockets with money.

“Wow, the teller’s game must be pretty weak if they just let this guy through.”

Hearing Deadpool’s comment, the robber’s head shot up.

“Hey buddy.” Deadpool said in a friendly tone. “What’s up? Howzit hangin’?”

Jeremy felt a familiar tingle travel through his body, and he barely had time to blink before the robber pulled out a gun and shot three bullets directly at Deadpool. They traveled all the way through his torso and out the other end.

“Oh my god!” Jeremy said, terrified. He shot a web at the robber, effectively disarming and trapping him, and grabbed Deadpool by the shoulders.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god. Deadpool!”

“What?”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ‘WHAT?’” Jeremy shouted. “HE JUST SHOT YOU!”

Deadpool cocked his head, then looked at the holes in his chest as if seeing them for the first time. “Oh that’s what that was.”

“I-I need to g-get you to a doct-tor or something!” Jeremy held on to Deadpool’s shoulders, beginning to pull him out of the bank.

“No need! I’m fine.”

“You’re fine?!”

Deadpool nodded. “Didn’t I ever tell you about my powers?”

“I thought you were a mercenary?”

“A mercenary can’t have powers? Geez Spiderman, this is the 21st century.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Sorry, continue.”

“I’m invulnerable, which, in case you don’t know, means I can’t be killed.”

“I know what it means. So what, your bullet holes will just close up?”

“Yeah pretty much.”

Jeremy stopped for a moment, just processing all this.

“So you. . . Can’t die?”

“Nope.”

“Like, not at all?”

“As far as I’ve seen.”

“You haven’t like, tested it, have you?” Suddenly Jeremy was beginning to feel sick.

Deadpool counted off on his fingers. “Ive been hit with bullets, knives, swords, had gaping wounds, lost limbs. . .”

Deadpool looked Jeremy in the face. “And I think I got my skull bashed in one time. With a hammer. A big one.”

Jeremy gripped his stomach. “C-can we stop talking about this?”

Deadpool chuckled. “Yeah, sorry.”

As if on cue, the police finally showed up.

“Ah, Spiderman! Glad you were near the scene. We had some traffic problems downtown.” Cara West, Jeremy’s favorite police officer greeted him.

“No problem, Ms. West. Glad to be of help!” He grabbed Deadpool by the elbow and headed out of the bank. A few civilians called out to him, but he was feeling overwhelmed and just needed to get away. Deadpool seemed peeved, but he didn’t say anything.

Jeremy looked at the holes in his chest, and realised they were merely holes in his suit now, the skin having closed up underneath. Awestruck, he almost stopped in his tracks, but people were starting to follow them, so he kept himself going.

“You can’t like, fly or anything, right?”

“Nope.”

“Okay then, hold onto my back.”

Deadpool scoffed, but upon realising Jeremy was serious, tentatively climbed onto his back.

Jeremy shot a web towards the top of a nondescript apartment building, and pulled himself up about halfway to the top, climbing the rest of the way.

“Dude, I don’t get it. How are you so fucking strong?” Deadpool asked.

“I dunno I’m like, half spider or whatever.”

“So like, was your mom a spider? Or your dad?” Deadpool paused. “How does a human fuck a spider? That’s the creepiest shit ever.”

“No, I don’t have a creepy spider parent.” Jeremy laughed. “This is gonna sound super dumb but,”

Jeremy bit back another laugh. “I was bitten by a radioactive spider.”

“No shit? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Jeremy shook his head. By this point, they had reached the top of the building, and Jeremy let Deadpool unlatch himself.

They sat down on a large pipe, and Jeremy pulled his mask up to his nose so he could breathe better.

“Woah.”

“What?”

“I just—I guess I forgot you were a person under that mask.”

“Are you not a person under  _ that  _ mask?”

“Of course I am! I just forget that. . . You are, I guess.”

Deadpool kept his face turned towards Jeremy. He seemed distracted.

“So, What kind of stuff do you do?”

“Like what?”

“You’re a mercenary, right? Do you like, kill people for a living?”

Deadpool sat back on his hands. “Sometimes. I’ve been asked to kill people, blackmail people, maim people. If it’s considered unethical, I’ve probably done it.”

“Oh. . .” Jeremy’s stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“I’m kidding. Well—partially. I don’t kill innocent people. A lot of people have useless grudges, and I don’t really like to kill people because of it. But like. . .” Deadpool gesticulated, looking for the right words. “If your family was murdered and you asked me to kill the guy who did it, I would.”

Jeremy’s stomach still squirmed, but he pushed the feeling aside and tried to change the subject.

“Did you see that interview with the president?”

“The one about the end of the war?”

“Yeah. . . Did you think that interview seemed. . . Out of character?”

“Oh yeah, totally. Had me  _ perturbed  _ for hours.”

“Perturbed?”

“Word-a-day calendar.” He said, shrugging.

Jeremy thought for a moment about how Michael had a word-a-day calendar, and almost mentioned it to Deadpool, but decided against it. He didn’t really want Deadpool to know who he was.

“I wonder if there’s something to it.” Jeremy wondered aloud.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, something sinister. Maybe someone is behind it all. I mean, the president’s intent was peace but. . . He kinda had a ‘peace or death’ thing going on.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised. Maybe it’s some evil super villain.” He joked. “And the spectacular Spiderman will have to swoop in and save the day.”

Jeremy punched him playfully in the arm.

They sat there for a moment longer, but it was nearly noon, and Jeremy needed to get home to his dad.

“Well DP, it’s been a pleasure hanging with you. But next time you want to hang out, don’t send a fake tip.”

“Do you have a Spiderman version of a bat signal? A spider signal?”

“No, but uh. . .”

“What? Are you gonna tell me you have a Spiderman email?” Deadpool asked, giggling a bit.

“Uh, yeah. . .” Jeremy answered.

Deadpool burst into laughter. Real laughter. He sounded so happy that Jeremy couldn’t even be offended from being laughed at.

“Lay it on me, man of spiders.”

Jeremy shared the email he used for fan mail and stuff. Jeremy had put a filter on it so every message with the word “fan” in it was sent to a different inbox. Every now and then he’d go through it, but seeing his main inbox so crowded always made him feel guilty.

Jeremy pulled his mask back over his mouth, waved goodbye to Deadpool, and shot a web in the direction of his suburb.

He stopped in an indiscreet place to change out of his costume so his dad wouldn’t see him dressed as Spiderman.

As soon as he stepped into the house, he was greeted by his father who was sitting on the couch watching TV.

“Hey, kid.”

“Hey dad.”

“Have a good time with Michael?”

Jeremy faltered. He almost forgot that he spent the night at Michael’s. “Y-yeah.”

“Alright.”

“Alright.”

It was hard to have an actual conversation with Mr. Heere because his replies were always very clipped and didn’t offer a reason to continue talking.

Jeremy paused, waiting to see if his dad would say anything else. When he didn’t, Jeremy climbed up the stairs and headed to his bedroom.

Something had been bugging him about what Deadpool had said. Something about an evil super villain. Jeremy had seen his fair shares of super villains, though he hadn’t yet met one he couldn’t beat.

He found the interview he and Michael had seen the other day, and rewatched it. He rewatched it over and over until he found what was so off about it.

The president was looking at the interviewer most of the time. Except for whenever he seemed unsure of what to say. Whenever that happened, he glanced at the same spot off camera. It was a small detail that most would deem unimportant, but now Jeremy was nervous.

It seemed odd that he’d glance at the exact same spot whenever he needed to know what to say. Almost as though he were asking advice from someone unseen by everyone else.

Overwhelmed, Jeremy closed the tab, and closed his laptop. He would need to talk to Michael about this later, but for now, he needed a nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really fun to write, so I hope you enjoyed it!! And ignore you think this isn’t good, we’ve got even better stuff coming in the next few chapters so stay tuned!
> 
> Thank you to the wonderful @sexcteapot for her help and her editing skillz. 
> 
> Feel free to hmu on social media  
> Insta - @probably_an_idiot  
> Tumblr - @probably-an-idiot
> 
> I live for kudos and comments I read every single one!! Thanks for reading!!


	3. Confabulate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy talks about his theory, and a couple people show up uninvited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long I’ve had zero motivation for a while!!!! I’m back on my groove though, so hopefully the wait won’t be so bad for the next one!

“So I think there’s someone—or  _ something— _ influencing the president, and possibly other world leaders.”

Michael blinked. His phone was pressed to his ear, and he was vaguely aware that it was three am and  _ Jeremy had been talking at him for ten minutes. _

“Okay wait. So what you’re saying is that somebody is telling the president what to say?”

“Yes.”

“And your only proof is that he glances off to the side when he doesn’t know what to say?”

“Well—“

“Jeremy, that doesn’t mean he’s being controlled.”

“I know but he looks at the  _ exact same spot.” _

“How can you tell? The resolution on that video isn’t even good.”

“I just have a gut feeling.”

“Oh well then let’s just base all of our information on your gut feeling then.”

“No, shut up. All I’m saying is, it’s worth looking into. In any case, I found a newspaper article about it.”

“You read the newspaper?” Michael snorted.

“My dad likes to read the comics but that’s besides the point! The article says that the president is on an itinerary to go to pretty much every country we’ve ever had beef with and make peace, and you know what? I bet it’ll work.”

Michael yawned. “So then why is this a problem?”

“The president is being manipulated!”

“Yeah but. . . He’s being manipulated to do good.”

Jeremy was silent for a moment. “But what if. . . What if there are bad intentions behind it? What if whoever’s doing this is trying to achieve. . . Some end?”

“Jeremy, I don’t know. What I do know is that it’s five in the fucking morning and you woke me up to talk about some shitty conspiracy.”

“Okay, sorry mister grumpy pants. Go back to sleep. I’ll just develop this theory on my own.”

Michael almost laughed, but instead he hung up and went back to sleep.

Michael was outside Jeremy’s house at two o’clock, nervous to enter. There was a car he didn’t recognize in the driveway and Michael had come uninvited. Jeremy might be busy.

Then Michael corrected himself: Jeremy’s never busy, Michael is his only friend.

So Michael pushed open the unlocked front door.

Immediately when he walked in, Michael could hear voices. Mr. Heere’s and. . . Someone else’s. They seemed to be arguing quietly, like they didn’t want people to hear them. Like they didn’t want  _ Jeremy _ to hear them.

Michael tried to peek into the kitchen, where they were. He didn’t want to interrupt or be seen so he tried to be as discreet as possible. When the kitchen came into view, Michael nearly dropped the donut he’d brought for Jeremy.

He scrambled up the stairs quietly because standing in the kitchen was  _ Morgan fucking Heere, Jeremy’s mother.  _ Needless to say, she didn’t really like Michael.

Michael found Jeremy in his room. He was laying spread eagled on his bed, his face blank and tired looking. His hair was disheveled but Michael found it endearing.

“Jere?” He asked. “You okay?”

Jeremy blinked slowly and shook his head.

“You want a donut?” Michael asked, twisting it in his hand. Boston creme, Jeremy’s favorite.

Jeremy glanced in Michael’s direction, almost cracked a smile, and nodded.

Soon enough, Jeremy was sitting up cross legged across from Michael on his bed, eating the donut.

“Did you see. . ?” Jeremy trailed off.

Michael nodded slowly.

Jeremy pulled his donut away from his mouth, eyeing it nervously.

“I’m not supposed to know she’s here. She pulled up and I saw her out the window.”

“Seems like she just wants to argue with your dad.”

“Yeah. . .” Jeremy muttered.

“What do you think she wants?”

“I don’t know, maybe another chance? Whatever. I’m not giving her one.”

“I wouldn’t either but. . . Your dad might.”

Jeremy rubbed his face. “I know.”

There was a moment of them being silent, but Michael quickly remembered why he’d come.

“Uh, well, I came so we could talk more about your theory and stuff. I know you’re like, really worried about it.”

“I don’t really feel like talking about it.” Jeremy murmured, laying back on his bed and stretching his limbs out.

Michael rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you. . . Wanna talk about your mom then?”

“No.” Jeremy said, pulling a pillow over his face and groaned loudly.

“Yes.” He said, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“I’m all ears, man.”

“It’s just—“ Jeremy started, bolting uptight and facing Michael. “My dad is  _ not  _ over her. And I don’t know why she’s come back like this. I don’t know what she’s talking to my dad about. I don’t know what she wants. But I don’t what what little progress he’s made to just. . . Disappear.”

“I get that. If she’s trying to get back with your dad, that could be a problem. She’s not good for you guys.”

“But also. . .” Jeremy’s lip quivered. “She might want. . . Me.”

“What do you mean?”

“She might want like, custody of me. Or at least partial custody.”

Michael sat back on his hands and chewed on his lip. “Well, you’re seventeen. If you don’t want to live with her, they’ll take your opinion into consideration.”

“But. . . My mom’s a lawyer—“

“A  _ divorce  _ lawyer. Not a custody lawyer. Or whatever they’re called.”

“It doesn’t matter what kind of lawyer she is!” Jeremy’s voice broke and he paused, composing himself. “She’s a lawyer, and that means she knows how the law works, and how to get her way in court. And divorce lawyers handle custody cases a lot!”

Michael didn’t know what to say. He was right. Morgan was a powerful woman with an iron will. All they could do was hope custody wasn’t her goal.

“Do you want a hug?” Michael asked softly.

Jeremy blinked and took a deep breath, nodding. Michael pulled him into a hug, rubbing his back and trying to soothe his friend’s nerves.

“Whatever happens,” Michael whispered. “I’ll be here. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Jeremy pulled away and laid back down on the bed.

“You ready to talk about the theory now?”

He sat up again. “Yes.”

Michael laughed. “Okay so. . . Someone is telling the president what to do. Do you have proof? Or evidence other than that last interview?”

“Uh. . . No proof, BUT I  _ have  _ found other interviews.”

Jeremy pulled out his phone and searched for the interviews he was talking about. They watched three of them, and the president was indeed looking somewhere off camera pretty often. This wasn’t necessarily proof, but Michael couldn’t say Jeremy’s theory was complete bullshit anymore.

“So here’s my question: why?”

“Good question!” Jeremy said, going to google and searching for something else. “The president’s been working in peace and diplomacy, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Well he’s trying to fix our relationship with Russia right now, when previously, he’d been pretty anti-Russia.”

“Well, that’s kind of weird, but people change.”

“Not this much! He hated the president of Russia before! Why is he trying to make friends?!”

“Okay so, what’s the point?” Who’s doing this and why?”

“Some horrible super villain?”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Have you ever seen a supervillain?”

“Of course I have!”

There was a pause. Michael realized that supervillains weren’t so extraordinary. They were just people with superpowers who didn’t use them for good. In fact, by those standards, wouldn’t that make Michael a supervillain? _ I don’t really save people. _ He thought.  _ I’m like a hitman. _

Michael pushed a hand through this hair and shook his head. It’s better not to think about his morals. It could give you a headache.

A knock at Jeremy’s door broke the silence, and they heard mr. Heere’s voice coming through the door.

“Jeremy? Can I come in?”

Jeremy looked to Michael, wide-eyed. “He never knocks.” He whispered.

Jeremy climbed off his bed and to the door, opening it just a crack.

“What is it?”

“Can we talk?” Michael heard him say softly.

“Michael’s here.” Jeremy’s voice was flat.

“Oh should I. . . Maybe. . .”

“I can leave.” Michael piped up. “If you guys need to like, confabulate.”

Jeremy gave him a questioning look.

“Word of the day.” Michael shrugged.

“No,” Jeremy said, opening the door wider. “Michael can hear it. I’d just tell him later anyway.”

Mr. Heere looked hesitant, but he entered the room anyway. Jeremy sat back on the bed and he and Michael faced mr. Heere.

“Jeremy, I have some. . .news.”

“Is it good? Or bad?”

“I guess that depends.”

“On what?”

“On how willing you would be to live with your mother.”

Michael felt like his world was falling apart, and Morgan wasn’t even his mother. He couldn’t even imagine how Jeremy felt. He was almost scared to look at him.

He did, though. How could he not? He glanced at Jeremy and he felt his stomach jerk. Jeremy’s face was stark white, his eyes wide and worried and he was trembling. Michael didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to help. He grabbed Jeremy’s hand and squeezed, hoping to bring him back.

Mr. Heere sighed. “Look, son. Your mom came by today. I expected to get divorce papers in the mail, but it turns out she wants you. I—“

“Why?”

“Well, she’s your mother. Mothers love their sons.”

“She doesn’t act like it.”

“That’s not the point. I didn’t let her take you because I know you wouldn’t want to go with her. But she wants to go to court on it.”

Jeremy closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “I’m not going with her.”

“Son, I’m gonna fight as hard as I can to keep you with me full time, but odds are, she’ll at least get half custody.”

Jeremy started crying and Michael couldn’t do anything but squeeze his hand a little more.

“That’s not fair!”

“I know. Son, I know.”

There was a lull in the conversation, broken only by Jeremy’s sniffling.

Mr. Heere sighed. “How’s about we go to Dairy Queen? Get some ice cream? Take our minds off this?”

“Yeah, sure. Just give us a minute.” Michael said.

Mr. Heere nodded and exited the room.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

“It’s just as bad as I imagined.”

“It’ll work out. Your dad’s here for you, and I am too. Even at three in the morning.”

Jeremy almost laughed. They both stood up, and Michael offered a hug. Jeremy gratefully wrapped his arms around Michael and squeezed.

They stood there for a moment, just enjoying the warm feeling of being enveloped in someone you care about. They broke apart sooner than Michael would’ve liked, but contrary to popular belief, hugs aren’t the ultimate cure-all, it’s ice cream.

**Author's Note:**

> So here’s the first chapter! I hope you liked it, and there are more to come!
> 
> I’ve plotted out the whole story, the chapters just aren’t written, so I can promise you I will see this to the end, but bear with me If updates are just a bit slow!!
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr (@probably-an-idiot) or insta (@probably_an_idiot) and feel free to leave kudos and those sweet, sweet comments. I love to hear from you guys!!


End file.
